


Bridges

by cytheriafalas



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, M/M, Near Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 04:16:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4086331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cytheriafalas/pseuds/cytheriafalas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a prompt that reads, "You go to bed like any other night but when you wake up, you’re on the center of a bridge suspended over wide empty space. Describe the bridge and everything you can see from where you stand. What goes through your mind when you first wake up? Which direction do you choose to go? Where does it take you? Do you second-guess your choice? What happens when and if you reach the end of the bridge?"</p>
<p>It started that way and turned into a near-death experience. It's a very different style than I usually do, but I hope it worked out anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bridges

**Author's Note:**

> This was written with three songs pretty much on repeat. Links take you to youtube. [Lullaby for a Stormy Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CXUpPFCesTA), [Mordred's Lullaby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ny7NZPfl0l4), and [Mad World (Peter Hollens cover)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=25qfzAcnqHw)

Derek opened his eyes. He was standing in the middle of a wide bridge shrouded in fog. It was lit all around from somewhere beyond his view, a sun that shone bright somewhere else. A river rushed far beneath him, wind stirring the mist into eddies around his feet. He wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing at his forearms to try to chafe some warmth back into his skin.

The mist muffled everything but that river. The sound it made tumbling across rocks was unnatural. He’d sworn it had been just the sound of fast water when he’d first heard it, but as he turned the volume increased, a river tumbling over rocks. Somewhere beyond the white haze that marked the border of his vision he could hear car tires on pavement.

“Hello?”

Nothing. Not even his own voice echoed back to him.

He turned in a circle, looking for something that differentiated one place from another. There was nothing. Dark red metal to one side, aged, but not ancient. Everything else faded into gray darkness a handful of feet out. The metal was cold under his fingertips, cold and damp, gritty with a city’s grime.

Putting his back to the rail, Derek turned left.

“Hotch? Reid?”

It was silent. The cars faded with every step he took, the river’s volume rising to the dull roar of a waterfall, the fog around him closing in until his own feet were lost in the mist. The air was thick in his lungs. He stumbled to a halt, hand pressing to his chest to feel the rise and fall of his breath.

“Garcia? JJ?”

Derek looked back over his shoulder, wondering suddenly if it might have been smarter to head the other way. But there was only darkness behind him. A thick sort of darkness that crawled beneath his skin and made him shudder.

Something was wrong. He’d been here before.

“Emily? Rossi? Somebody?”

He took another step forward, plunging into the fog. Everything around him was a diffuse white, light emanating from everywhere but beneath him.

 

Derek opened his eyes. He was standing in the middle of a wide bridge shrouded in fog. It was lit all around from somewhere beyond his view, a sun that shone bright somewhere else. A river rushed far beneath him, wind stirring the mist into eddies around his feet. He wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing at his forearms to try to chafe some warmth back into his skin.

The mist muffled everything but that river. The sound it made tumbling across rocks was unnatural. He’d sworn it had been just the sound of fast water when he’d first heard it, but as he turned the volume increased, a river tumbling over rocks. Somewhere beyond the white haze that marked the border of his vision he could hear car tires on pavement.

“Hello?”

Nothing. Not even his own voice echoed back to him.

Derek started to turn in a circle and then stopped. No, this was… This didn’t make sense. He’d done this before. Hadn’t he?

He put his back to the dark red metal bridge, aged, but not ancient. Everything else faded into gray darkness a handful of feet out. The metal was cold under his fingertips, cold and damp, gritty with a city’s grime. Derek turned right.

“Hotch? Reid?”

It was silent. The river faded with every step he took, the revving engines speeding past, the fog around him closing in until his own feet were lost in the mist. The air was thick in his lungs. He stumbled to a halt, hand pressing to his chest to feel the rise and fall of his breath.

“Garcia? JJ?”

Derek looked back over his shoulder, wondering suddenly if it might have been smarter to head the other way. But there was only darkness behind him. A thick sort of darkness that crawled beneath his skin and made him shudder.

He heard his own name floating on the wind through the darkness.

He took another step forward, plunging into the fog. Everything around him was a diffuse white, light emanating from everywhere but beneath him.

 

Derek opened his eyes. He was standing in the middle of a wide bridge shrouded in fog. It was lit all around from somewhere beyond his view, a sun that shone bright somewhere else. A river rushed far beneath him, wind stirring the mist into eddies around his feet. He wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing at his forearms to try to chafe some warmth back into his skin.

The mist muffled everything but that river. The sound it made tumbling across rocks was unnatural. He’d sworn it had been just the sound of fast water when he’d first heard it, but as he turned the volume, a river tumbling over rocks. Somewhere beyond the white haze that marked the border of his vision he could hear car tires on pavement.

He took a breath in to call out, but stopped. He’d done this before. This made no sense. He’d seen this bridge before.

“Hello?”

Nothing. Not even his own voice echoed back to him.

He turned in a circle, looking for something that differentiated one place from another. There was nothing. Dark red metal to one side, aged, but not ancient. Everything else faded into gray darkness a handful of feet out. The metal was cold under his fingertips, cold and damp, gritty with a city’s grime.

He leaned back against the bridge.

_“Derek?”_

A voice cutting through the river, the wind, the cars.

_“Derek, open your eyes.” “Get him away from here. Morgan?”_

Putting his back to the rail, Derek turned left.

“Hotch? Reid?”

It was silent. The cars faded with every step he took, the river’s volume rising to the dull roar of a waterfall, the fog around him closing in until his own feet were lost in the mist. The air was thick in his lungs. He stumbled to a halt, hand pressing to his chest to feel the rise and fall of his breath.

“Garcia? JJ?”

Derek looked back over his shoulder, wondering suddenly if it might have been smarter to head the other way. But there was only darkness behind him. A thick sort of darkness that crawled beneath his skin and made him shudder.

“Emily? Rossi? Somebody?”

He took another step forward, plunging into the fog. Everything around him was a diffuse white, light emanating from everywhere but beneath him.

 

Derek opened his eyes. He was on his knees in the middle of a wide bridge shrouded in fog. It was lit all around from somewhere beyond his view, a sun that shone bright somewhere else. A river rushed far beneath him, wind stirring the mist into eddies around his feet. He wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing at his forearms to try to chafe some warmth back into his skin.

The mist muffled everything but that river. The sound it made tumbling across rocks was unnatural. He’d sworn it had been just the sound of fast water when he’d first heard it, but as he turned the volume increased, a river tumbling over rocks. Somewhere beyond the white haze that marked the border of his vision he could hear car tires on pavement.

“Hello?”

Nothing. Not even his own voice echoed back to him.

He pushed himself to his feet, looking for something that differentiated one place from another. There was nothing. Dark red metal to one side, aged, but not ancient. Everything else faded into gray darkness a handful of feet out. The metal was cold under his fingertips, cold and damp, gritty with a city’s grime.

He went to take a step, only to find his knees crumpling beneath him. He sprawled to the ground, scraping his palms on the rough ground.

_“His pulse is thready. We’re losing him.”_

“Hotch? Reid?”

_“Derek, please, please just hold on.”_

“Garcia? JJ?”

_“One, two, three.”_

Derek looked back over his shoulder. There was only darkness behind him. A thick sort of darkness that crawled beneath his skin and made him shudder.

_“Stay here. We need to get him to surgery.” “Is he going to be okay?” “Go sit, Reid.”_

“Emily? Rossi? Somebody?”

It was silent. The cars and river faded. The fog closed in. The air was thick in his lungs.

###

Spencer’s hands were shaking. He tried to fold them beneath his elbows, but the crusted blood smeared across his shirt. Some of it was still wet, still warm.

From the corner of his eye he could see a nurse approaching. JJ intercepted her, a hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “It isn’t his blood. Could we get a towel or something?”

“Yes, of course.”

JJ put her hand on Spencer’s cheek. “Hey, Spence, look at me. Can you do that for me?”

“He’s in shock,” Hotch said. “We need to get him in a chair before he collapses.”

An abstract, clinical part of Spencer’s mind that hadn’t fractured beneath the stress provided that information for him: _rapid, weak, or irregular pulse; confusion; cool, clammy skin; a decrease in blood pressure corresponding with hypotension; rapid, shallow breathing; nausea._

Emily ducked beneath Spencer’s arm. She still wore her FBI vest, the fabric rough beneath his fingers. His bloody fingers.

“I’m getting blood on you.” His voice hardly sounded like his own, coming to him through a long tunnel.

“It’s okay. I have some on me already. Come with JJ and I, okay?”

“Take him to the far side. Garcia hasn’t come in with Rossi yet.”

Rossi. He’d found Rossi on the ground. He’d been beaten, bloody. Some of the blood on his hands was Rossi’s.

It took both Emily and JJ to keep him from falling on the walk to the waiting room chairs. The floor seemed dangerously uneven for a hospital.

“Look at me, Spencer.”

He blinked and tried to focus. JJ’s face was blurred, surrounded in a messy halo of blond hair. She had a smear of blood across one cheek. He reached out to touch it, unable to form his question. She smiled at him.

“It’s the unsub’s. I’m okay.”

Something warm and damp brushed across his hands. A dark head was bent over the work, yellow lettering on her back. Emily. Emily washing his hands. He pulled away.

“Let us clean you up.”

There was some commotion at the door to the ER, but both women blocked his view of the hallway.

Spencer shook his head, pulling more firmly at his hands.

“Okay, okay. We’ll leave that be,” JJ said. “Can we wash your face off? You’ve got dirt all over you.”

Another woman appeared in front of him, blond and shocking waves of pink and green. It took him a moment to identify her.

“Garcia?”

“Yeah, sweetie, it’s me.”

Spencer lost time. Sometimes Garcia sat beside him and held his hand, gently coaxing him to dip his hands in water. Sometimes it was JJ, her arm around his shoulders. Sometimes it was Hotch, trying to get Spencer to talk to a nurse.

He never knew when one became the other. The room spun around him. He was exhausted. He didn’t know the last time he’d slept. He need to sleep. He needed to eat.

“Derek Morgan?”

Spencer rose to his feet. Garcia kept her arm around him to keep him steady, but he hardly needed to lean on her.

“That’s us,” Hotch said.

“He’s out of surgery. He’s lucky. If that first bullet had gone in a fraction of a centimeter to the left, it would have torn through his heart. The second bullet ruptured his stomach lining, but we were able to repair the damage in time.”

“Can we see him?” Spencer asked.

“Give him a couple hours to stabilize. He made it through the surgery and all his vitals are strong and steady, but I want to make sure he stays that way.”

“Reid, go back to the hotel and get cleaned up. Get something to eat and get some sleep.”

“I won’t sleep at the hotel.”

Hotch shot him an annoyed look. “Fine, but you’re not to come back here until you’ve showered and eaten. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“JJ, go with him.”

“Yes, sir.”

###

Derek opened his eyes. He was standing in the middle of a wide bridge shrouded in fog. It was lit all around from somewhere beyond his view, a sun that shone bright somewhere else. A river rushed far beneath him, wind stirring the mist into eddies around his feet. The mist curled around his ankles. He wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing at his forearms to try to chafe some warmth back into his skin.

The mist muffled everything but that river. The sound it made tumbling across rocks was unnatural. He’d sworn it had been just the sound of fast water when he’d first heard it, but as he turned the volume increased, a river tumbling over rocks. Somewhere beyond the white haze that marked the border of his vision he could hear car tires on pavement.

“Hello?”

Nothing. Not even his own voice echoed back to him.

He turned in a circle, looking for something that differentiated one place from another. There was nothing. Dark red metal to one side, aged, but not ancient. Everything else faded into gray darkness a handful of feet out. The metal was cold under his fingertips, cold and damp, gritty with a city’s grime.

Putting his back to the rail, Derek turned right.

“Hotch? Reid?”

It was silent. The river faded with every step he took, the revving engines speeding past, the fog around him closing in until his own feet were lost in the mist.

“Garcia? JJ?”

Derek looked back over his shoulder, wondering suddenly if it might have been smarter to head the other way. But there was only darkness behind him. A thick sort of darkness that crawled beneath his skin and made him shudder.

“Emily? Rossi? Somebody?”

He took another step forward, plunging into the fog. Everything around him was a diffuse white, light emanating from everywhere.

 

Derek opened his eyes.

_“Tristan volunteered to be his uncle's spokesman and once again set sail for Ireland. He knew that Ireland was being plagued by a fierce dragon, and that the king had offered the hand of his daughter to whomsoever could kill the grisly serpent. Armed with faith and hope, plus a spear and a sword, he sought out the dragon and attacked it bravely. A fierce battle ensued. The serpent defended itself with smoke and fire, then counterattacked with teeth and claws, but in the end Tristan was victorious.”_

He knew that voice and he knew that story.

_“The dragon lay dead before him. With great effort he pried open its great jaws, cut out its tongue, put it into his shirt as a trophy, then walked away. Exhausted from the fight and poisoned by the tongue inside his shirt, Tristan nearly lost consciousness. He kept himself alive by dragging himself into a cool pond, where he lay with only his head above water.”_

Derek tried to speak, but he managed only a wretched sort of croak.

“ _Meanwhile, the king's chief steward_ —Derek?”

“Spencer?”

“I’m right here.”

The book clattered to the floor. Spencer’s hair was a mess, falling every which way into his face. He had a bruise across his cheek from where the unsub had punched him right as Derek had reached them. He reached up to touch it, but somehow he couldn’t quite find the strength.

Spencer took his hand and kissed his palm. As close as they were, Derek saw rusty flakes beneath Spencer’s fingernails. Blood, unless he missed his guess.

“Are you hurt?” Derek asked. When Spencer frowned, he ran a finger across Spencer’s thumbnail.

“Oh. No, no, that’s… That’s your blood. I thought I got it all, but I was in a hurry.”

“Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah. Rossi was beaten pretty bad. The doctors thought he might have a concussion or some brain damage, but his tests have come back negative. They’re keeping him for observation. He woke up about an hour or two ago.”

“An hour or two?” Derek echoed. “Not an hour and twenty-three minutes ago?”

Spencer ducked his head in embarrassment. “I went in to see him while Hotch saw you, but I haven’t left your room since then. JJ told me he’d woken up just over an hour ago. I don’t know how long before that it was.”

Derek looked around. The room was dim, only diffuse light coming through the curtains and from the bathroom door. “Were you reading in the dark?”

“You know I don’t actually need the book. But it’s nice to hold it, sometimes.”

“That’s not good for your eyes.”

Something passed over Spencer’s face and Derek frowned. At least that didn’t hurt. He could frown, even if he wasn’t sure he could even move his arms very far of his own volition.

“Don’t ever do that again.”

“Do what?”

“Take a bullet for me. You could have been killed. Promise me.”

“I’m not going to promise you that. _You_ could have been killed, and I’m not going to risk that.”

Spencer sat down again, resting his forehead against Derek’s shoulder. That didn’t hurt. Not any more than the rest of him, anyway. “Derek, please.”

“I’m not promising. Would you promise never to take a bullet for me?”

Spencer was silent. Then he shook his head.

Derek managed to bring his left arm across his body and twine his fingers through Spencer’s hair. They stayed still for long enough for Derek to realize that Spencer’s back probably hurt, bent like that. He let go, waiting for Spencer to lift his eyes.

“How close was I to dying?”

Spencer looked away at that. He took a deep, steadying breath, then met Derek’s eyes again. He almost wished he’d asked Hotch or JJ instead. “Close. Centimeters close.”

“I’m okay, Spence. It’s gonna take a lot more than a bullet to take me away from you.”

“Two.”

“What?”

“Two bullets.”

Derek was pretty sure he only remembered getting shot once, but Spencer was probably right. “It will still take more than two bullets to get rid of me.”

He shifted on the bed and bit back a sharp groan. Even through the drugs he could feel two distinct, separate areas of pain. Definitely two bullets then.

“Oh! Let me go get a nurse,” Spencer said, starting to stand.

Derek caught his wrist. “Give me a kiss first.”

That smile on Spencer’s face made all the pain in the world worth it. He leaned down and kissed Derek, hand resting alongside Derek’s throat.

“I’ll give you however many kisses you want once you’re better,” Spencer promised. “I’ll be right back.”

Derek watched Spencer go, giving him a reassuring smile when he looked back over his shoulder one last time. Then he closed his eyes. There had been something about a bridge.


End file.
